The Unloved Kids
by Bardic Jester
Summary: Head Girl Hermione Granger becomes interested in the social outcasts of seventh year through Theodore Nott's new look. Her association with them brings her to music, parties, gossip and tears. How far will her fascination with Nott and his Morrissey haircut take her? And what does Luna Lovegood and a book claiming to be Ian Curtis have to do with it?
1. From a Distance

The Unloved Kids

Part 1: From a Distance

_1997, October_

Hermione Granger was sitting back in her chair when Theodore Nott walked into the library. Ron Weasley sat across from her, playing with a pencil between his fingers, eyes half closed. He was bored, and had drifted deep into his imagination. Yet, he noticed Hermione watch Nott enter the room. Ron followed Nott's movements: Nott, with his bag half draped over his shoulder, sat down, alone, at an empty table, on the other side of the study section.

"Is that Nott?" Ron whispered loudly, motioning towards the boy.

"What?" Hermione asked, her focus broken, without hearing what he had said.

"Is that Nott?" Ron repeated. "I heard he changed over the summer, but that's mental. I barely recognized him."

"Have you not seen him yet?" Hermione asked.

"No. I don't have any classes with him. I haven't even run into him in the halls yet."

"That's unsurprising. To my knowledge, he tries to avoid the halls and crowds."

"What do you think happened?" Ron asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you don't go from the awkward kid he was last year to _that_, without something happening to you."

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it."

Ron stood up from the table. "Well, anyways, I need to head to practice. Are you alright here?"

"Yeah. I can handle everything."

"Great. See you later." Ron grabbed his backpack off the ground, threw it around his shoulders, and sauntered towards the door. His long red hair slowly swayed from left to right as he walked.

Hermione turned her attention towards the stack of papers laid out before her on the table. The Halloween Ball was soon. As Head Girl organizing the prefects for the event was one of her responsibilities. Ron had agreed to help, but, in typical fashion, he distracted her more than anything else. He'd always done that, even when they were first selected as Prefects. Ron was more than happy to let Hermione do all of the work. She leaned back into her chair again, and she glanced once more at Nott.

Nott wore a long black coat, with the letters HATE written in white paint across the back. Beneath the coat, he wore a white dress shirt with a thin black tie. His black hair was cut like a Morrissey quiff, and his pants were tight and black with holes in the knees. At the table, alone, he read a paperback novel, with his pack of cigarettes and wand resting in front of him.

The new look was jarring, considering how Nott looked before the summer vacation. He'd always worn loose t-shirts and khakis under an old robe. There was a constant aloofness to his nature, which, seemingly, had been transformed into a refined toughness. Before, it seemed like he was distant and withdrawn from everyone because of a seeded disinterest in others; now, it looked like an act of rebellion. His solitude became a political act: a calculated dissent from conformity.

Hermione was curious about the boy with black hair. What led him to this state? In a sense, she felt like she knew him. They been in the same classes throughout their seven years at Hogwarts. They were two of the few students to be currently taking all honours courses. She saw him everyday. And, yet, she'd only known him from a distance. Hermione sat in the front of the class, and he sat at the back. The only times they spoke in the hallways were to continue debates they'd started in class. Students from different houses had seldom opportunities to socialize, and Hermione and Nott walked in different crowds. Hermione spent most of her time around Quidditch teams, seeing as Ron and Harry were both members. Nott did not like Quidditch. Or, at least, it seemed that way: she'd never seem Nott even attend a Quidditch match in the past seven years.

Most of her knowledge about Nott the past couple of weeks came from Draco Malfoy, the Head Boy. When the two of them spent time in their office, Draco would occasionally mention Nott in passing, as he'd talk about the happenings in Slytherin. Nott spent most of his time in Slytherin listening to music, usually by himself, or with Tracey Davis. Draco liked Nott. Nott was the only other student Draco could talk about Neitzsche with. But, their relationship did not get much closer than that. Draco only truly knew Nott from a distance as well.

There was one night, Hermione sat in the office she shared with Draco, and Nott came by looking for him. Nott's hair was styled with his Morrissey quiff, and he wore the black wool coat with HATE written across the back.

"Is Draco around?" He asked, leaning on the door-frame.

"No, I think he's at Quidditch practice," Hermione responded.

"Cool." He turned around, put a cigarette between his lips, and started to walk away.

"Hey Nott," she called at him.

"Yeah?" He turned his head back to look at her.

"I like the new look."

He paused for a second, and turned back around. "Thanks," he said, walking down the hall.

She could not explain it, but she always felt there was something special between them. It was a feeling that came over her whenever they spoke, or passed by each other in silence. Like a deep receding weight that pressed in her stomach. It made each interaction bogged down by a grave severity, which she thought connected them, but, paradoxically, kept her separate from him. It made their interactions special, but in those moments, she could not act like herself. The passing mass in her stomach pulled her away into an ironic self-conscious assessment of who she was. Was she what she wanted to be? Was she doing what she wanted to be doing? She was too self aware in Nott's gaze.

Hermione turned her attention back towards the stack of papers, resting on the table in the library. She wondered if she could ever breach the gap. If she could overcome the hurdle of her self-doubt when she was around him. If she could know Theodore Nott from anything more than a distance.

...

Author's Notes:

This story will be a little more conventional than my other stories.

I hope you like it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	2. The Unloved Kids

Part 2: The Unloved Kids

"I'm glad that's over," Ron commented, stepping out of the entrance to Gryffindor. He turned right, and headed down the hallway. Around his shoulders, he wore his official Gryffindor robe; his large prefect P patch was sewn on the left side, over his heart.

"Explaining the rules of the Halloween Ball to the first years is an important task." Hermione added, following behind him. She held a clipboard against her chest, beneath her crossed arms. She stood tall, with straight posture. The letters HG were written over her prefect P patch.

Ron turned around, and stared at her. "Just because it's important, doesn't mean I have to like it. I didn't like those talks when we were given them by prefects in first year, and I sure as hell don't enjoy giving them myself."

"You take such pride in your responsibilities."

"Probably why they made me a prefect." Ron turned back around, and continued to walk down the hall. "I'm going to head to the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game. Hopefully I can catch the end of it. Want to join me?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

"By the way, are you going to the Halloween Ball with anyone?" he asked.

"You know I'm going with Draco. The Head Girl and Head Boy always attend together."

"I know. But, I heard Draco was going with Pansy."

"Yeah, that's right. Pansy's his date. We're not going as an item or anything."

"Alright, are you planning on going as an item with anyone?"

"No. How about you?"

"Lavender's going to go with me."

"Cool," Hermione said, coldly. "You know what? I think I'm going to head off by myself, maybe grab some fresh air."

"Alright," Ron acknowledged. "I'll see you later then."

"Yeah."

Hermione gave Ron a slight wave, and turned a corner. She walked down a level, and headed for a door to the outside. She left the building, and walked out onto the stairs on the outside of the building. The late October afternoon light was slowly receding into night. Cheers could be heard from the Quidditch stadium. The game was in its final exciting minutes. Hermione breathed deeply, and quickly wiped a tear from her eye.

The grounds outside were empty. Students were either at the Quidditch game, or hiding from the cold fall air. Standing on the steps, Hermione shiverred. A bitter wind blew by. From a distance, she could her what sounded like music; it was distorted, and muffled, but playing loud enough that she could hear it clearly. She stepped down from the steps of the entrance, and walked along the wall of the school.

Following the music, she found three students loitering at the side of the building: Wayne Hopkins, Tracey Davis, and Theodore Nott. Wayne wore his black leather jacket, a ripped black t-shirt, and tight black pants. On his shoulder, he had a HufflePuff pin with the red line through it. His hair was spiked, with white highlights on the tips. He stood straight, tapping his hand against his side, and smoking a cigarette. Nott leaned against the wall. His Morrissey quiff rustled in the wind. He wore his long black wool coat, with the letters HATE written across the back, a black dress shirt, and tight brown pants. A cigarette bogarted between his lips; both his hands rested in the pockets of his coat. Tracey sat on the ground between them. Her legs were crossed beneath her long black skirt. She wore a black blouse, with a choker around her neck. Her black slick hair was cut about her shoulders, with one or two strands crossing over her forehead, giving the illusion of bangs.

Hermione approached them gingerly. She held the clipboard tight against her chest.

"What do you want Head Girl?" Wayne called out to her.

She paused in her spot, "I, uh," she stuttered.

"Back off Wayne," Tracey commented, her voice soft.

Wayne took a step back, but kept his gaze centred on Hermione.

"What's up Hermione?" Tracey asked.

"Nothing really. I was just walking by, and I heard your music."

"You like it?" Tracey asked.

"Sure," Hermione said. "But I don't know what it is."

"Come on Tracey!" Wayne interjected. "You're just going to sit there and let her try to soften you up? She's obviously here for a reason. No one just approaches the unloved kids unless they've been told to. So what is it Head Girl? What do you want?"

"I," she paused, "I don't want anything."

"Yeah, then why do you have a clipboard? Are you going to try to force us to help out with the Halloween Ball? If so, then fuck off. If you're here to observe us, and report back to your fascist masters, then you can doubly fuck right off."

"Wayne!" Tracey called at him, her voice still reserved. "Can you please shut the fuck up! Do you not think I can handle myself? I'm perfectly fine, and I don't need your help. If you keep acting like that, then it's you who can fuck right off."

Wayne stood still for a moment, before leaning back on the wall, and flicking his cigarette onto the ground. "Whatever..." he said under his breath.

Tracey turned her attention back towards Hermione. "It's My Bloody Valentine by the way."

"It's good," Hermione reiterated.

"Cool. It's Nott's album."

"Which is shocking," Wayne added, "considering mister Ian Curtis wannabe's taste. Talking with him, you'd think music ended in 87 after the Smiths broke up."

"I don't think you should be judging me for liking older music Wayne. You always go on about LA Hardcore; Both Black Flag and Dead Kennedys broke up in 86, before the Smiths." Nott spoke. His cigarette dangled between his lips; his hands stayed still inside the front pockets of his coat.

Wayne raised his shoulders. "Sure, but I also like music that's come out this year: Bad Religion, NOFX, while for you, it's a miracle you like a single album that's come out this decade."

"Yeah, well maybe the 90s suck." Nott exhaled, with one long breath, letting the smoke crawl out of his lips."

Hermione stood still; a cold wind blew past. "What do you think of this music Tracey?" she asked.

"What? Loveless?" Tracey said. Hermione nodded her head. "It's okay. Sounds a little too much like noise to me. I never got into Sonic Youth either. I prefer something with a clearer melody. I mean, it's good, but when you look at what else came out that year..."

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

Tracey smiled. "Like the best album ever."

Hermione stared at her with a blank face.

"Dry." Tracey clarified.

"I'm not familiar..." Hermione began.

"You don't know PJ Harvey?"

"No..."

"We're going to have to fix that," Tracey spoke forcefully.

Hermione spoke hesitantly: "sure."

"Look, we're having this thing tonight in the east tower, room 702. Why don't you drop by, maybe around 9 or 10, and we'll listen to some PJ."

Hemione stood still. Staying after ten would be breaking curfew. But, deep in her stomach, something excited her. "Okay." she said, half commital.

"Great." Tracey smiled. "We'll see you there." She grabbed her bag, slipped it around her shoulder, and headed towards the entrance of the school. Wayne picked up the old RCA boombox, and stayed close to her, staring at his feet. Nott stood still for a moment, until sighing, throwing his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out, and following suite. As he passed by Hermione, he flashed her a small smile. Hermione watched him walk by, the letters HATE were written on the back of his jacket.

Hermione stood still. She held the clipboard close to her chest. A cold wind blew past. Cheers could be heard from the stadium as the game ended.

...

Author's Notes:

The name 'Unloved Kids' comes from a Marina and the Diamonds song called "I am not a Robot". The line goes:

_You've been hanging with the unloved kids  
__Who you never really liked and you never trusted_

I listened to that song repeatedly while writing this story, along with songs by PJ Harvey and Joy Division.

I hope you liked it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	3. A Real Freak Party

Part 3: A Real Freak Party

Hermione sat in her dorm room. She brushed her fingers over the cover of _Franny and Zooey_. The bustling of the common room echoed up the stairs, tapping on the door to the room. She wore her hair tied back, a long tan skirt, a white dress shirt, and black runners. She mused over the possibilities of the night. Fantasies played in her head; she wanted them to form a sequential order, and give mold to a plan for the evening. But they were too jumbled. The strands she tried to follow became knotted. What was she doing?

With a sigh, she stood from her bed, headed down the stairs, and entered the Gryffindor common room. Students were scattered, lounging their night away. The Quidditch team sat in close quarters in a circle of couches; Harry sat in the middle, laughing along with Seamus and Ginny. Hermione stared at the ground, and continued towards the exit. She turned the knob, stepped outside, only to be confronted by Ron Weasely, wearing one of his boyish grins, standing alone in the hallway.

"Hey Hermione," he said. "Sneaking out? That's a rare sight. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, "I'm just going to hang out."

"Yeah? With who? Anyone from Gryffindor?"

"No. Slytherin and HufflePuff."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah: Tracey, Nott and Wayne."

"What are you doing with those weirdos?"

"We're just hanging out. I don't see why you're so interested."

Ron lifted his hands defensively, his boyish grin gleaming. "Hey. It's not everyday I catch you trying to break the rules. I'm just curious is all."

"Cool. Then can I go?"

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good time," he chuckled, and reached for the door. "One thing though: watch out for that Wayne guy. He's a real freak. Gets pleasure out of hurting others. I swear it's the only reason he plays Quidditch. Keep it in mind."

"I will." Hermione gave Ron a slight wave with her hand, and started to walk down the hallway. It was just after ten o'clock. Curfew was in effect. The Head Girl was allowed break curfew, but only if she had a reason; Hermione held her stomach. A pervasive silence surrounded her. The only noise came from the steps of her black runners: tap, tap, tapping on the ground. She slowly passed through the hall, down a dark corridor up to the east tower. She climbed the stairs; moonlight passed through the windows. At the top, a small circular landing was surrounded by three doors: 701, 702, and 703.

She stood for a moment, silent; her heart raced. She reached her hand towards the door, and knocked on 702.

Lull. Still. She held her breath.

The door knob turned, and the door opened a small crack. Loud music erupted from the silence, stuffing the room. In the crack, Wayne stared at her. "Holy Shit! She actually fucking came!" he yelled over the volume of the music.

"Close the fucking door!" Someone yelled from inside.

Wayne pulled the door ajar, and Hermione quickly slipped in. With a _thud, _the door closed.

Room 702 was a divination classroom. Large curved windows were blocked by thick black curtains. Small round tables were laid out in the room, round stools surrounded them, with round crystal balls sitting atop. Tracey, wearing the same black outfit from earlier in the day, sat at one of the tables. The old RCA boombox was placed next to her. Wayne, with his torn Black Flag shirt moved to an empty stool near Tracey. On the other side of the room, Nott sat alone, reading a paperback novel, leaning back into his chair.

Hermione walked towards Tracey, and joined her at the table. The loud music blared from RCA boombox; a woman's voice sung over abrasive drums. A silencing charm had been placed in the room. No one could hear the music past the door.

"Is this PJ Harvey?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah." Tracey nodded her head. "Sheela Na Gig."

"Sorry, what?"

"It's the name of the song."

"Oh, cool."

"You like it?"

"Yeah. It's good."

Wayne sat forward in his chair, staring intensely at Hermione.

"Do you guys do this often?" Hermione asked.

"Every couple of nights, sure," Tracey spoke.

There was another knock at the door. Wayne pushed back his seat, sighed, and walked towards it. He swung open the door to reveal Luna Lovegood leaning on the doorway. She wore a bright green blouse, with a dozen necklaces tied around her neck. Her skirt was layered, with three different fabrics: blue; pink; orange. She had blue highlighted streaks in her long white hair.

"Great, you're here too?" Wayne commented with disdain. He walked back to his seat, and let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Glad to see you too Wayney-kins," she acknowledged, and entered the room, closing the door behind her. She brushed her bangs from the front of her face. "Hermione?" Luna asked, taken aback by the Head Girl sitting idly in the room.

"Hey Luna." Hermione greeted with a smile.

Luna approached Hermione, taking a seat at the table with her and Tracey. "What are you doing here?" Luna asked.

"Tracey invited me," Hermione answered.

"Seriously?" Luna turned towards Tracey.

Tracey nodded.

"Well, fuck me. It's good to see you. We haven't hung out like this since, shit, when you were my mentor back in first year." Luna smiled. "This is so cool. Welcome to a real freak party!" She exclaimed, raising her arms in the air.

Luna took out a small deck of cards from the small black bag she carried with her. She placed the cards on the table, and placed a number of plastic chips next to them. She shuffled the deck quickly, and dealt out five cards for four places. Wayne, with a groan, nudged his way around the table. Luna slyly looked at her cards, as did Tracey and Wayne. Hermione sat still, watching them. Luna tried to hide a smile as she raised her head, but paused when she noticed Hermione. "Aren't you going to look at your cards?" She asked Hermione.

"Huh? What?" Hermione asked, taken aback, as if awoken suddenly.

"Aren't you going to look at your cards?" Luna repeated, pointing at the five cards in front of Hermione.

"Oh, sorry," she said, placing her hand over the pair. "I didn't realize I was playing. I thought these were for Nott. Is he not playing?" She asked.

"Yo asshole!" Wayne called, turning his head towards Nott. "You want in?"

Nott raised his middle finger in Wayne's direction.

"I guess not," Wayne commented, turning back towards the table. "Always too fucking cool for anything."

Tracey shrugged her shoulders. "Theo likes to do his own thing. I think he's really into his book."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"On the Road," Tracey mentioned.

"For the love of God, can we start?" Wayne said.

Luna grabbed the deck, and distributed out the chips. They played out the hand, and continued for another half hour. Then, at the same time, the PJ Harvey tap ended, and Luna lost the last of her chips.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed, drawing out the syllable. "I swear, no matter how many times we play, I'm always going to suck. She sat back in her chair. "You guys mind if I choose the next album?"

"Go ahead," Tracey said.

"Just don't play Radiohead," Wayne added.

"Too bad." Luna took out a tape from her black bag, and a small tin container. She hit eject on the old stereo, took out _Dry_, and placed her own in the tape deck. She pressed play, and 'Airbag' began to play.

"You'd think you'd get bored of this album eventually." Wayne said.

"You'd think, but it haven't happened yet." Luna opened the tin container. She took out a small bag of weed, and a cylindrical metal grinder.

"You think that's such a good idea?" Wayne asked.

"What?" Luna responded.

"You know, with miss Head Girl here? Come on, she's practically a narc. There's nothing she'd get off on more than bringing us in."

"That's not true!" Hermione said, jumping in.

"Yeah fucking right. I've seen how you are. The way you grind your teeth when you see someone else break the rules. You're just looking for an excuse to bust us."

"Come on," Hermione said. "Everyone knows Draco smokes in our office. There's no secret there."

"I bet not when you're around."

"That's irrelevant."

"Come on Wayne. Hermione's cool," Luna suggested.

"Yeah. You're just pissed that she's kicking your ass in poker." Tracey commented.

Wayne grunted. Luna rolled a joint. When she finished, she waved it in the air, and called out: "yo Nott!"

Nott looked up from his book, and nodded. He closed the pages, and placed it on a nearby table. He stood from his seat, walked over to them, and looked at the table. "Shit, Hermione's really bleeding you guys out," he said, commenting on the chips. "I mean, anyone can beat a neanderthal like you Wayne, but, really Tracey? You're better than this."

"Shut up," Tracey playfully exclaimed. "Miss Head girl here has had the luckiest fucking game so far."

Luna waved her wand in the air, muttering the incantation "_condeliquescio_" under her breath. She lit the end of the joint, inhaled, and passed it to Wayne. Wayne took it, took three tokes, and took his time passing it down to Nott, who was standing over his shoulder. Nott inhaled in one, slow breath. He held it in his lungs, until finally letting the smoke slowly crawl out his mouth. He motioned it towards Hermione. "You want some?" he asked.

Hermione paused, staring at it, "uh."

"Come on," Nott pressured, giving it to her.

She held it between her thumb and index finger with suspicion. Hesitantly, she took it to her mouth, and inhaled with two short breaths. She gave it next to Tracey, before coughing uncontrollably. Luna laughed at her expense.

"Raise your arms," Nott suggested, raising his own in demonstration.

Hermione followed suite, raising her arms above her head. All four of them watched her: Tracy, Wayne, Luna, and Nott; a real freak party. Hermione smiled. 'Paranoid Android' started to play.

...

Author's Notes:

Thank you for all of the nice reviews. Although, I would appreciate if you could write more than two or three words. I learn a lot more when you explain what about the story makes it "very good", so that I can use the advice in my future stories.

I hope you liked this chapter. It was fun to write.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	4. The Black Haired Boy

Part 4: The Black Haired Boy

Late at night, in room 702, Hermione sat against the wall. After the poker game, the five of them: Hermione, Luna, Tracey, Wayne, and Nott had migrated to the side of the room, on the floor. Luna rested her head in Hermione's lap; Hermione traced her fingers over Luna's hair. Next to them, Nott and Tracey sat together, with the old Sony RCA boombox between them. Their hands were placed close together; only an inch separated them. Wayne paced in front of them, walking ten strides, before turning, and walking ten strides back. Nott chose the music: The Smiths, 'What Difference Does It Make' played.

"So, how are you guys able to use this room?" Hermione asked.

"That would be me," Tracey spoke, raising her arm. "Trelawney lets me use it whenever I like."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. Divination's weird. Prophecies can hit at any moment. And, apparently, according to Trelawney, that means I need access to this room whenever I want. Honestly, I didn't ask too many questions; I was just thrilled at the prospect."

"You must be really good at it then," Hermione complimented.

Tracey laughed. "I wouldn't say that. I'm Trelawney's favourite, that's for sure. Whether that means anything in regards to skill, I'm unsure."

Wayne paused mid stride. "She's just fucking with you. No one else understands anything in that class."

"Whatever," Tracey dismissed. "At least we get to enjoy this room."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. She looked down at Luna, lying her head on Hermione's lap. "How do you guys know Luna?" Hermione asked.

"She found us one night outside smoking. We haven't been able to get rid of her since," Wayne mentioned, looking annoyed.

Tracey shot him a look. Wayne threw up his arms in an exaggerated way, and sat down on the tables. "What Wayne's trying to say," Tracey spoke in a maternal fashion, "is that we ran into Luna one night, at the beginning of the year, and she seemed to fit our band of misfits."

"No one in my year likes me," Luna mentioned, her voice soft and muffled, just loud enough for Hermione to hear. Hermione ran her fingers through Luna's hair.

Nott stood from his spot, and grabbed his coat. "Sorry guys, I think I might be done for the night."

"Yeah?" Tracey asked, sounding let down.

"I have class tomorrow morning. I'll probably head outside, have a smoke, and then pass right out."

"Okay," Tracey said, as if she were giving permission. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah."

"Hey," Hermione interjected. "Do you mind if I join you? We're in the same class, so I was thinking of heading out soon too. I wouldn't mind some fresh air as well."

"Alright," Nott agreed.

Hermione lightly pushed Luna from her lap. The Ravenclaw girl glared at Hermione, obviously annoyed to lose her head rest, but she stayed silent. Hermione walked up to Nott, and turned around, towards the others. "Thanks for inviting me. It's been fun."

"You should come out again," Tracey said.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," Hermione agreed. She flashed them a smile, and headed towards the door. Nott took the lead, opening the door a crack, and quickly sneaking through it. Hermione followed close. As the door closed, the music disappeared, and the hallway they stood in was silent.

"That was fun," Hermione commented.

"Yeah." Nott agreed. They passed down the stairs in the tower. The moonlight had moved; the windows were dark holes they passed by. At the bottom of the stairs, they passed down a dark corridor, around a corner, down another flight of stairs, to a door to the outside. Nott kept it open for Hermione; she passed by him, brushing against his chest.

A gravel path followed over a grassy knoll before them. Old lampposts lined the edge of trees

down the way. Nott sneaked along the wall, around a small corner, into an indentation in wall, hidden from sight of the door. Hermione fit herself beside him; their shoulders touched. He leaned against the brick, felt in his coat, took out a cigarette, and lit it with a black lighter. The tip burned a crimson red as he inhaled.

"Hey," Hermione whispered, greeting him.

"Hey," he said, with a smile. "Have a good night?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. She crossed her arms, holding her chest. The cold fall air cut into her; the white dress shirt she wore was too thin.

"Tracey's pretty cool right?" Nott said.

"The coolest."

Nott smiled. He inhaled from his cigarette.

"She mentioned you were reading _On the Road,_" Hermione said.

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"It's engrossing," he said, enamoured.

"Yeah? That good?"

"I don't know if good is the right word," he said. "It's unlike anything I have ever read. It's not really a story, or a novel. It's more like a chronicle, or a record. Like an engrossing list of all the places Kerouac visited, but, also, all the beer he drank, all the girls he spent time with, all his friends he did drugs with; that kind of a thing. It's pathological, and pointless, and drifting, and shit. It feels alive; it feels like life. I don't know. Maybe good is the right word." He paused. "I'm sorry. I'm not very articulate. I don't think that made any sense."

"No!" Hermione said. "No, that was great. I've always thought you were very articulate."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Silence. Nott took another drag.

"Nott..." Hermione whispered.

"Yeah?"

"How'd we let it get to this? You know, in the seven years we've been to school together, tonight's the most time we've ever spent together. I mean, we see each other every single day. Have we ever really talked?"

"No. I guess we haven't."

Hermione looked at the ground. Her stomach churned. The crippling self awareness, which plagued her whenever Nott was around, slowly built inside her. Holding his cigarette between his fingers, Nott exhaled. He stared towards the sky. The stars were dim dots in the dark.

"But," Nott added, "there's still a whole year ahead of us. We still have time. You think you'll hang out with us again?"

"I'll try. I have a pretty busy schedule. I'm stretched thin between my class work and Head Girl responsibilities. I barely have time to spend with my friends. But, I'll try."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Hanging with this kind of company is bad your health anyway. People start believing you're sickly if you're near us too long. Especially if they're on a Quidditch team."

"Come on Nott," Hermione said, "I doubt that's true."

"It's the story of my life at Hogwarts. I know it better than anyone else."

"It's not true about everyone. My friends are different."

Nott lauged. "What? Harry and Ron? They're the fucking worst."

Hermione frowned. "I doubt that."

"Really? Ask Wayne about it. Just because he dresses a little differently than everyone else, those Gryffindor Quidditchers treat him like a dangerous freak."

"I don't think it's just because of the way Wayne dresses," Hermione suggested. "You know how he acts. The guy's pretty abrasive."

"What?" Nott asked, "I mean, sure, Wayne's a neanderthal, but do you really think that excuses the shit he has to put up with?

"No..." Hermione trailed off. She held her arm. "Still, I don't think my friends are that bad. They're really nice people."

"I'm sorry Hermione, but I just don't believe that." Nott leaned back against the wall, turned away from Hermione. He sighed, staring back at the sky, and threw the butt of his cigarette onto the ground. Hermione moved her hand towards him, almost touching his shoulder, before pulling it back.

She brought her arm close, around her chest. "Then what makes me different?" she asked. "If you hate my friends so much, then why do you put up with me?"

"Who says I want to? Tracey was the one who invited you tonight. Considering your friends, who knows if you're any better."

Hermione's face tightened. She punched Nott on the arm. "Fuck you Nott! What did I do to deserve that? Just because of the people I hang out with, I'm shitty? You have the audacity to call Ron and Harry the worst, and then say that to me? No, Nott, they're not the worst, you are. Fuck you."

She stormed off, out from the indention. Nott remained stoic, staring at the stars. Across the back of his coat, written in white paint, were the letters HATE. The black haired boy, with his Morrissey quiff, stayed silent. Hermione continued towards the door, fuming with anger, her arm shook, and the panic built. Her breaths were fleeting. She coughed.

...

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	5. Gossip

Part 5: Gossip

The next morning, Hermione attended her class. She sat in her usual spot, near the front. She placed her bag on the desk: arranged her papers flat, opened the book to the proper chapter, and placed a pen parallel across the top. Hesitantly, she turned around. Draco sat in his usual seat at the back, but, beside him, the desk was empty. Nott was not there. Throughout the class, she'd turn around, checking if he sneaked in, but every time, the desk stayed empty.

This continued for the rest of the day. In each class, Nott was gone. She tried not to think about it. After dinner, she worked in her office, hoping Draco would drop by. He'd know what was happening, and maybe mention what happened to the black haired boy after she left. But, he never showed. She stayed in the office, alone, the whole night. On her desk, she'd laid out the papers about the Halloween Ball: all of the details she needed to process. Earnestly, she tried to work at it, but, in reality, her minded wandered, late into a night, along a wall, beside a boy with black hair.

The next day, anxious, she sat in front of the class, hoping to see Nott walk past. She held her arm, unsure about what she wanted to say. The night played back in her mind, and pulled her down towards the ground. And, yet, she wanted to see him. She needed to. It was all she could think of. It came to her with clear certainty. There was no doubt in her mind. And she waited, and waited, but the boy with black hair did not appear. A shiver ran down her spine.

In the afternoon, she visited the library. She could study there, and, although she would not admit it, she knew Nott liked the library as well. Maybe he was hiding there. She placed herself firmly in her seat, took out _Franny and Zooey_, and took a deep breath.

After a few minutes, she started to calm down. There was a serenity to the scene. She always felt relaxed in the library. There was something about being surrounded by so many books; something about all of that knowledge floating around her. People moved slower there. They kept to themselves, and let the silence encompass them, stimulated calmly by the area.

That is, until Ron Weasley walked into the library. Desperately searching the room, he noticed Hermione, and launched towards her like an arrow. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

"Hermione, I've been looking all over for you."

"What is it Ron?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"Just about all those things people've been saying. It's like everyone's gone mental."

"I haven't heard anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What's it about?"

"You know. About that stuff."

"No Ron, I really don't know. What at you getting at?"

"About you and Nott."

"What?" she looked surprised, "what have people been saying about Nott and I?"

Ron leaned back in his chair. "A lot of stuff. I was hoping you could let me know what's true or not. I've been trying to dispel as much as I can, but, you know, I want to know what really happened."

"What are people saying?" She asked forcefully.

"People are saying you guys had a fight."

"Well," Hermione leaned back into her chair, "that's not entirely untrue."

"Is it true you guys fucked?" Ron asked desperately, leaning towards Hermione, his hands placed on the table, as if the answer was a grave, important matter.

"No! What?" Hermione almost yelled, throwing her book on the table. Instantaneously, she became ashamed, and held her hands to her mouth. She could feel everyone's eyes staring at her throughout the room. She'd broken the serenity of the place.

Ron sat back, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear. I didn't think you guys did. That would have been really fucking mental! But, you guys actually had a fight?"

"Of sorts. We hung out, and words got heated."

"Really? I told you to be careful around those weirdos. Frankly, I think you should be lucky you didn't lose a limb, or something fucked up like that."

"I don't think..." Hermione began, but she was cut off by Ron abrasively standing.

"Anyways, I've got to head out, and sort this stuff out. I'll see you later." In a breath, he was off, out of the library.

Hermione sat still, wondering if she had sorted anything out for him.

Near dinner time, Hermione finally decided to leave the library. She stood up from her seat, walked between the stacks of books, and headed towards the dining room. For her supper, she grabbed a pork chop, some potatoes, and a cup of black coffee to give her some energy. Initially, she headed straight towards the Gryffindor table, to join the Quidditch team and Harry.

But, at the end of another table, Tracey sat alone. Near the end of Slytherin, the girl wore a long black skirt, a deep blouse, and a black choker around her neck. Hermione walked in Tracey's direction, and sat across from her.

"Hey," Hermione greeted.

"Hey," Tracey reciprocated with a smile. "Rare to see you away from the Gryffindor table. I'm flattered."

"You should be." Hermione looked around. "This is my first time at the Slytherin table. Seven years here, but sitting at this table, makes everything a little different."

Tracey chuckled. "I can imagine."

Hermione poked sheepishly at her food. "Hey Tracey, I wanted to ask you something..." she trailed off, trying not to make eye contact.

"About the rumors?" Tracey guessed.

"What? No, not about the rumors. What would I want to ask about the rumors?"

"Well, I was guessing you wanted to know who started them."

Hermione turned her head. "Admittedly, that has crossed my mind. It's strange, you know? How would someone know that Nott and I were alone? I doubt Nott would have said anything. Do you think it was Wayne?"

"No," Tracey said with a smile. "I started them."

"What?" Hermione asked, shocked, "why?"

"I thought it would be fun. We never have rumors about our group. People often forget about the unloved kids. I thought this was the ample opportunity to finally have the school pay attention to us: a steamy love affair between the Gryffindor goody two-shoes and the Slytherin punk rock loner. It's gold. Plus, it's not like it's a bad rumor or anything: people think you got laid. That's kind of awesome."

"I don't think I share that sentiment," Hermione said, with a muted tone, unsure about the girl she sat across from.

"So, what were you actually going to ask me about?"

"Nott. He hasn't been attending his classes. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Yeah, he's fine. Don't worry about him. This happens. Every once in a while he'll recede back into his loner ways. He just needs to recharge his batteries. I'm sure he'll be fine in a day or two. "

Hermione tried to smile. "Good. I'm glad he's okay."

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"We're thinking of hanging out in 702 again tomorrow. Do you want to come? You said you would."

Hermione worried about her other responsibilities. The Halloween Ball was soon, and she had a lot of work to do. But she could also use some time to relax and sort things out. Things were too messy in her mind to actually work.

"Okay, I'll come."

"Great!" Tracey grinned from ear to ear.

...

Author's Notes:

Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter.

In regards to your comments, , about the language and drugs. I personally don't think it's too much. Most of the characters in the story are 17. Drugs and foul language were very common when I was that age, to an almost mundane extent. I would rather write a story emulating how teenagers actually talk, than a story pretending they don't swear. This is my opinion at least, whatever that's worth.

I enjoyed this chapter. My stories are usually bogged down with a penetrating solemnity. It's nice to sometimes write something a little more lighthearted.

I hope you liked it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	6. A Point Where Two Lines Meet

Part 6: A Point Where Two Lines Meet

After eating dinner the next day, Hermione headed to her office. She sat at her desk, turned on her electric kettle, and laid out her papers from her knapsack. Once the water boiled, she poured herself a cup of tea, and started to work. She needed to finalize the prefect responsibilities and schedule for the Halloween Ball. There was little more to do, but she needed it finished by the end of the night. An hour passed solemn. She got to a place she was comfortable with: now, all that was needed was Draco's opinion and approval. She stood up from her desk, draped her bag around her shoulder, and headed towards Gryffindor.

Once she entered the house, she passed through the common room. As per usual, the Quidditch team lounged on the couches. In the centre, Harry laughed with his bellowing voice. She cut her way towards her dorm room, and sat down on her bed. Letting out a deep breath, she laid down for a moment. The light above her burnt a vibrant glow into her eyes. She sat up, headed to the washroom, splashed her face with water, and brushed her hair. Dressed in a tight red t-shirt, and blue jeans, she left her dorm, slipped through the common room, and left the house.

There, outside the door, stood Ron Weasley.

"Hey Hermione," he said. "Sneaking out?"

She kept moving, "sorry Ron, no time to talk."

The hallway was as empty as it was three days before. The pervasive silence rang in her ears. Again, the only noise came from the steps of her black runners: tap, tap, tapping on the ground. Every once in a while, a creak could be heard from some dark and distant place around a corner, always around a corner. She climbed the stairs of the east tower. No light came through the windows. The sky was overcast and blank. On the landing, she stood in front of 702. She took a deep breath. Her heart raced. With a flick of her wrist, she knocked.

After a moment, the door handle turned, and it opened a crack. This time, however, no loud music played. Instead, a boy with black hair stared through the sliver. Nott stayed silent for a moment, before opening the door enough for Hermione to sneak through. She lowered her head, and walked in.

The room was empty. Nott walked towards the table where his black backpack, and his pack of cigarettes had been placed. He sat back into a chair, and held his head in his hands. He wore a blue button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up high on his arms, and tight black pants.

"That manipulative bitch," he said through his hand. "She always does this."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"She loves getting her little fingers in everyone else's business. It's like everyone's just a doll to Tracey, ready to be played with. Fuck!" he nearly yelled.

Lull. Still. She held her breath.

"Nott, I wanted to say I was sorry," she began to speak.

"No!" he interjected. "Don't you fucking dare. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Look, I know you didn't mean anything by your comment. I overreacted. You don't owe me anything. It was wrong for me to expect you to care."

"Stop! Don't be like that. You were right to care. I... I do care," he said. "Hermione, I don't know why I said those things to you. I panicked! Okay?" He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the table, and placed one in his mouth. He mumbled the incantation "_condeliquescio_" with a flick of his wand, brought his hand to his face, and lit the tip. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry. You were right. I am the worst." He rubbed his eyes. "I think I've been so alone the past couple of years, I'm still not used to spending time with people. I'd thought about the first time we'd really speak for so long, when the moment came, I was overpowered. It was dizzying, and I couldn't think, and I couldn't speak."

He continued: "What I said couldn't have been further from the truth. I think you're great. You're so smart, and witty, and cool. It doesn't matter who your friends are. You are so much more, despite your shitty friends. Judging you on those lines, makes me just as bad as they are."

Hermione breathed deeply. "Do you really think I'm different from them though? I've been thinking about what you said, and admittedly, Harry and Ron are not perfect. They have their faults. And, how they treat you guys really is shitty. And, it's not like I call them out on it. I really am not that much better."

"Of course you're better," he insisted. "It's not you who said those things. And you don't owe it to the world to fix all of your friends faults. Plus," he shrugged his shoulders, "you hung out with us, and was totally cool. They'd never do that. If they did, then maybe they wouldn't be so bad too," he paused "well... I'll reserve judgement on that."

"Fair enough." she sighed. "Still, do you not think I'm a little stuck up for you guys? Wayne was right, I hate breaking the rules, and I had to bite my tongue when you guys started to smoke. I'm just a cog in the system."

"You're not a cog. Sure, you might be involved in it, but not like that. Think of it this way: a cog is just a mindless follower in a machine, that does as it's told. You're not like that at all. You question, and, even though you had to bite your lip, you still did a hit, right? You actually participate, you influence, you lead: that's cool. I mean, you are the Head Girl, that's cool."

"You think me being the Head Girl is cool? I wouldn't expect that."

"Sure! Cause at least you're an active participant. You think about what you're doing. You actually make decisions. It can't be too hard to imagine my opinion on the matter, I mean, I'm friends with Draco. And, sure, that guy might have some fucked up, and frankly wrong, opinions about will to power, and the ubermensch, but he's still a cool dude. He might be the most genuine person I know. He really cares about this school, and Slytherin, and what he does. So, why wouldn't I think it's cool that you're the head girl?"

"I guess I never thought about it like that."  
"That's all I wanted to say. I'd be alright if you didn't want to hang out again."

"What? Why would I want to do that?"

He tipped his cigarette ash. "I'm awful," he said. "I've just felt so destructive all week. It's awful, I'm horrible. Why would you want to surround yourself with such an asshole? I couldn't talk to you for a minute without insulting you and your friends."

"Nott, It's okay. We all make mistakes." She tried to reassure.

"I just," he breathed deeply. "I just hate myself. I tried to change over the summer, and change my style, and change my attitude. But, to be honest, I don't feel any happier. If anything, I feel like the more I try to be social, or active, the worse things get. I really did imagine, for the longest time, the first time we'd really talk. We see each other all the time, but it just never happened. I didn't really think it would ever happen, that is, until it did happen, and I fucked it up."

"Don't be like that Nott!" Hermione raised her voice. "Sure, there's more chances to be hurt when you expose yourself to others, but that shouldn't be a reason to hate yourself. There will always be a necessary amount of risk in your life, and you can't avoid everything in a vain hope to escape it. And I really liked our night together. I barely think about the end. I think about all the fun we had, which wouldn't be there unless you tried."

"I guess. I just wish it went better."

"Well, you'll never get a chance to change it, that's life," she breathed deeply, "but, maybe we can try again?"

"Do you have anything in mind?"

"The Halloween Ball. Go with me to the Halloween Ball."

"The Halloween Ball? Shit, I wasn't even thinking of attending. Aren't you going with Draco?"

"Well, yes, officially. But, not really. It's not like we're going as an item. Draco's really going with Pansy."

"Would we be going as an item then?" Nott asked.

"Would you like to?"

He paused for a moment. "Sure, I guess."

"Me too."

"Oh, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"You can call me Theo.

"Okay," she said, her voice reserved. He put out his cigarette on the table. A searing hush fell over them.

...

Author's Notes:

Thank you for all the kind reviews on the last chapter. I'm glad you're all enjoying this story.

Recently I've been caught up in style, neurotically trying to build up and break down everything I've written: writing, rewriting, rewriting, rewriting, and then throwing it all out. There are so many pages of nonsense and half built ideas, that weigh heavy on me.

It's been fun writing this story: it makes it all feel a little lighter.

Next up: the Halloween Ball.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	7. The Halloween Ball

Chapter 7: The Halloween Ball

As Dumbledore spoke, Hermione and Draco stood behind the stage. It was customary that the Head Master addressed the school at the start of the Ball. He spoke largely about school spirit and unity. The students may be divided into four separate houses, but they were united as a single Hogwarts student body. Draco stood with his back straight. He wore a black suit, with a black tie. His short white hair was combed to one side. Next to Hermione, he stood a full head taller. She wore a sleeveless black tank dress, covered in small white polka-dots, with a thick black leather belt tied above her hips. The two of them waited for Dumbledore's cue. Soon, to open the Ball, he was going to ask for the first dance to be performed by the Head Boy and Head Girl. Hermione had never danced in front of a crowd before. She took deep breaths. Draco was stoic, as he regularly was.

In an attempt to break some of the tension, Hermione began to speak: "thanks for all your help on the Ball Draco."

"No problem," he said, "You're the one who really deserves praise. Organizing the prefects was the larger task. I feel like I barely did a thing."

"I needed the schedules to give the prefects their tasks. It was a necessary step."

"Sure, but those took me close to an hour to do. It was mostly me arbitrarily assigning numbers to different numbers. There's no science behind deciding which year leaves first. It's all just rolling a dice. You actually had to consider the decisions you were making, the people you were putting together, their level of involvement, and such. It was much more tasking."

"It wasn't so bad," Hermione smiled, with a tinge of self satisfaction at the compliment. "You know, I never thought I would say this, but I think we make a good team Draco."

"Ha!" he nearly laughed. "I agree. You know, at the beginning of the year, I didn't know what to expect. I was a little afraid when I found out you were going to be the Head Girl."

"As was I. I think we've been able to get this to work."

"Thanks mostly to you. I'm terrible at planning stuff out. It's a real problem with my dashing good looks and quick wit. I can handle well enough in the moment, that I rarely think ahead. My prefect schedule would have closer resembled: 'you know, do what you have to do'."

"You sell yourself short Draco," Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed, "but thanks for backing me up."

"No problem."

"Oh!" Draco said, as if remembering something important. "I heard about you and Nott. That's something huh?"

"Yeah," Hermione said.

"Nott's a cool guy. He can be awkward at times, and maybe a bit off putting, but, deep down, he's a good guy. No, fuck that, he's a great guy. Better than everyone else in this school. No bullshit."  
"You think so?"

"I know it. Nott and I have never really been close. We just hang out with different people, but there's something about him. Sure, we usually debate Nietzsche when we talk, but sometimes, it's really something. I feel like I can open up to him, and talk about real things, like real emotions and fears and shit. Way more than with anyone else in Slytherin. Sure, he's a little quiet, and he doesn't really like people, but he is actually a really caring person. Nothing could be worse to him, than treating someone badly. If it's the way the system treats the poor, or how a bully treats the weak. Which is a little funny, considering he still talks with me. He probably thinks I'm the worst person in the school, considering how I treat others."

"No at all. He called you the most genuine guy he knows."

"Really? He said that?"

"Yeah."

Draco smiled, folding his arms.

"How's Pansy, by the way?"

"She's top. You'll have to see the dress she's wearing. It's this real hot red thing. Makes her legs look amazing."

"I'll keep an eye out for it," she said.

Hermione breathed deeply. She was feeling a little more relaxed. The first dance was a part of her responsibilities as Head Girl. She knew it from the beginning. Since first year, she'd watched the Head Girl and Boy share the first dance. And yet, she never imaged she'd be in the position. She wanted to be Head Girl, sure, but she always doubted herself. All of the Head Girls she knew were cool, levelheaded people, and she felt nothing like that. But, maybe they felt the same way. Maybe she looked cool and levelheaded now. She took another breath.

Dumbledore's speech neared the ending: "With all of that said, I want all of you to have a good time. The Halloween Ball only comes once a year. We're here to have fun, to laugh, and to smile," he chuckled. "I will not bore you any longer. I'm sure you are all anxious to start dancing, but, before you can, I'm going to need to invite two special students up onto the stage."

With a deep breath, Hermione passed under the curtain, and walked towards Dumbledore. Draco followed close behind. The Halloween Ball was held in one of Hogwart's larger halls. Tables lined the walls, covered in snacks, beverages, and pumpkins. In the air, dozens of jack-o-lanterns floated, filling the room with warm light. Before the stage, the entire student body stood, staring straight at them.

Dumbledore continued: "It's our tradition here, that the first dance is shared by the two students whose hard work lets us enjoy special events like this. I would like to invite the Head Girl and Head Boy, Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Draco Malfoy, to the dance floor."

The crowd erupted into applause. Hermione stopped for a moment, still on the stage, staring at the hundreds of faces. Draco, on the other hand, stayed moving forward, and passed Hermione, tapping her lightly on the shoulder as he walked by. Heading down the stars off the stage, the crowd started to part. A wide circle formed around Draco and Hermione as they moved. Once they were in the middle of the dance floor, the lights dimmed, and music started to play.

"Would you have this dance?" Draco asked, extending his arm.

"It would be my pleasure," Hermione smiled. She grabbed his hand, and they moved closer together. The two of them, late at night, the past couple of weeks, pushed their desks against the walls, and cleared out the middle of their office, to practice the dance. In Hermione's head, she counted the steps, and tried to pretend she was back in the office. Draco stared straight, above her head, and moved fluidly. He was light on his feet, and Hermione was happy to let him lead.

Soon, other students started to dance, and the circle began to fill in around them. Before the end of the song, they were drowned in a sea of students, usually sixth or seventh years, dancing together on the dance floor. As the final note played, Draco gave Hermione a slight bow, and walked off, without saying a word.

Relieved that the dance was over, Hermione started to look for Nott. She made her way towards the far wall. There, she found three students leaning on the wall: Wayne Hopkins, Tracey Davis, and Theodore Nott.

"I wasn't sure you guys would show up," Hermione commented. She walked up to Tracey, who gave her a green army jacket. Hermione put her arms through the sleeves, and left it unzipped; her polka-dot dress beneath it.

"Thought we'd see what all the commotion was about," Tracey added with a sly look on her face. She wore a pin stripe pant suit, with a white dress shirt beneath the suit jacket. She'd left the top three buttons open, showing deep into her cleavage.

"Yeah," Wayne spoke, dumbstruck, and uncharacteristically with a lack of words. He wore his usual attire: the leather jacket, and tight jeans with holes in the knees. His hair was spiked, with the white highlighted tips. He kept staring at the ground, kicking at his feet, and occasionally staring at Tracey, before quickly looking away.

Nott wore his thin black tie with a white dress shirt, and his skin tight black pants. His hair was styled with a Morrisey quiff. He leaned deep onto the wall, watching Hermione. "You looked good out there," he said.

"Thanks," Hermione responded, blushing slightly. "Want to dance Theo?" Before Nott had an opportunity to argue, she grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards the dance floor. "It's nice that Tracey and Wayne came," she added as they moved.

"Yeah," Nott said. "I didn't think they'd come either."

"Do you think Wayne's going to have the courage to ask Tracey to dance?" she asked.

"What?" Nott said, as if he had not considered the possibility. He turned his head back, to see them still leaning on the wall. Tracey wore her devilish grin, while Wayne stole glances at her. "Probably not, I suspect. Probably not," he said, answering the question. He turned back to Hermione. "What's up with the army jacket?"

"Tracey let me borrow it. Said it looked cool. Made me more punk rock."

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know, but it looks pretty kick ass."

"Yeah. I totally dig it," he said with a smile.

They moved in closer. Arm placed on arm. Together on the dance floor. The boy with black hair and the Head girl. The Gryffindor goody two-shoes and the Slytherin punk rock loner. Hermione and Theo.

Despite sharing a fragile embrace, Hermione knew little about the stranger she held. Even though they were now physically close, she couldn't help but feel that she still knew him from a distance. They were still the same two kids on different tables at the library. But, despite the gap that separated them, she found solace in his arms. The weight that pressed down into her stomach whenever she was near him was gone. It'd been replaced by a sense of comfort, like home. So, in a sense, the gap did not feel threatening, or scary, or bad, just there. As real as it was between any two people: the limit of understanding. All she knew was that he was there, and she was with him, there on the dance floor, at the Halloween Ball, Nott and Hermione.

She leaned upwards, and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

...

Author's Notes:

I actually finished this chapter a couple weeks ago. I hesitated in posting it, because I was not sure whether I wanted it to be the end or not. After setting it aside for a while, I think I'm satisfied with it as an ending.

In a sense, this story turned into a rewrite of the "Hermione"section in my story _The Study Group_. Initially that story was supposed to consist of four self contained stories around ten thousand words long. Somewhere along the line, that plan was lost, and I think it suffered for it. This story, at least, had the feeling those stories were supposed to have.

I want to thank everyone for their nice reviews. Your words inspire me to continue writing. I hope you liked this story. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	8. Luna Lovegood and The Make-Believe

**If You Could Just See the Beauty **

Part 1

Luna rolled her joint expectantly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of a centaur. She sat on a bright red quilt. The sun beamed down. Her back rested against a large round boulder on the grass before the trees; the large rock covered her in shadow. Sitting there, next to the boulder, hid her from sight of the school; the perfect place for an afternoon blaze. She wore a bright pink blouse and a dozen necklaces. Her skirt was folded under her legs. The layered skirt consisted of different shades of green and yellow. Lace crossed the edges. Her long white hair was tied into a pony-tail. The blue streak dangled forward like bangs. On her lap, the small tin container containing her weed, grinder and papers rested gently. She kept her eyes forward. Ready to catch any movement. Centaurs were quick. Or, so she believed. No one had ever seen a centaur, but she had faith.

When she finished rolling, she brought the spliff to her lips, and licked along the edge. Her lighter was nestled beside her leg. She picked it up, and lit the tip, inhaling slowly. The forest was quiet. In this section, the trees were densely packed. She stayed attentive, leaning back, and exhaling in one slow long breath.

Then, movement. She shot forward. A figure passed behind a trunk in the distance. Her heart began to race. The figure moved quickly, jumping from spot to spot, but as it approached, it soon became clear that it was not a centaur, but a human. Luna let out a sigh of disappointment. Afraid it may be a professor, she put out the joint, hid it behind her back, and waved away the smoke with her hand.

When the figure stepped out from the shadow of the trees, glare was thrown into Luna's eyes. She covered her eyes.

"Luna?" she could hear a voice call. She opened her eyes to see Colin Creevey. He was a short boy with brown curly hair. He wore a black cardigan over a plain white polo shirt. In his arms, he held onto a Canon SLR. He gave Luna a friendly wave.

"Hey Colin," Luna sneered. She brought her joint out from behind her back. After looking for the lighter for a second, she re-lit it, and sat back against the boulder.

"What are you doing out here?" Colin asked. The Gryffindor boy from Luna's year had a jovial smile across his lips.

Luna shook her head. "None of your business," she said. "What are you doing stalking around the Forbidden Forest? You know it's off limits, right? You're not allowed to do that." She took another two quick puffs from her spliff.

"You're not allowed to do that either," Colin said pointing at Luna's joint. "Anyways," he brought up his camera, "I was taking some pictures. There's a bunch of really cool things in there. I'll show you them when I've finished this roll if you like."

"Sure," Luna snorted. She turned to the side uninterested. "See any centaurs?"

"Centaurs?" Colin asked confused. "You're not sitting here looking for centaurs are you?" He asked with a grin.

"No. Fuck off," Luna spoke defensively. She continued to look away from him.

"Ha! Classic Luna," he laughed. "No, I did not see any centaurs. Although, when I go through this footage, I'll let you know if I caught one. Any other make-believe beasts I should keep my eyes open for?"

"Why don't you just leave me alone, okay?" Luna asked. Her right hand, holding the spliff between her index finger and thumb, began to shake. She took another hit. The smoke slowly crawled out of her mouth as she exhaled. "And just because you've never seen one, doesn't mean they don't exist."

"I like to think that if no one has ever seen one, then they likely don't exist. You think you're somehow special? They'll come to you before anyone else who has ever gone to this school. The rumours of centaurs in the forest are just lies the upper year students use to scare the freshmen."

"You're just like the _others _Colin. Please, just leave me alone if you're so eager to be blind." Luna scratched behind her ear in frustration. She could feel the emotions building inside her. She did not want to feel that way.

Colin laughed. "Alright. I'll go. But, I don't think I'm the one who's blind. I only believe in what I can see through this thing," he tapped on his camera. "You're the one who's not willing to trust your eyes. Enjoy looking for nothing." He gave her another wave, walked around the boulder, and headed towards the school.

Luna brought her knees to her chest. He didn't understand. None of them ever understood. Why did it always end this way? Why did she always end up feeling like this? Why was she so alone? Why couldn't someone see it? Her lip quivered. She was tired. She was lonely. There, on her blanket, the spliff burning between her fingers, she sat alone, far from everyone else, trying to find friends with creatures that could understand her.

Part 2

Luna sat alone in the library reading the latest edition of the Quibbler. The tables were scarce. It was the middle of the day. Most students were in class. She had a free period. No one bothered her in the library. It was a quiet sanctuary. She felt safe when she read the Quibbler. It felt like home. Her father was always looking out for her when she was between the pages.

Her serenity was broken by the approach of Hermione Granger. Hermione wore a white dress shirt and a conservative black skirt under a green army jacket. Her long curly hair was all folded to one side. It was a slightly more edgy stint in her reserved form of dress. Hermione gave Luna a half smile, and sat down across from her. "Hey Luna," she greeted in a whisper.

Luna put down the magazine. "Hey Hermione," she smiled. "How are you doing?"

"Good," Hermione nodded. "I'm good. Busy. I've been busy studying, but it's good. After the Halloween Ball, my Head Girl responsibilities have gone down. It's a pleasant lull, for now at least, until Christmas comes along."

Luna ran her fingers through her long white hair. The steak of blue was tucked behind her right ear. "Cool. Cool. It must be difficult to be Head Girl and have top marks. I'd never have the drive."

Hermione chuckled. "I think it's just the way I'm wired. If I'm not up to something, then I start to get anxious. It's reassuring to focus on things. Anyways, how are you doing?"

"Alright," Luna acknowledged.

"Just alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Just alright," Luna repeated. "Anything wrong with that?"

"No. No. It's not that," Hermione took a breath. "I've just been a little worried about you. When you told me no one in your year likes you, back at that party, it made me wonder." She turned her head away. "I know it's none of my business, and I'm prying, but as your former mentor, I care. You were so full of energy and excitement back in first year, I'd hate to see you down."

"You don't need to worry," Luna spoke reassuringly.

"I know." Hermione tried to smile. "Just, are you really alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think I would know better than anyone else."

"That's true," Hermione nodded. "Sorry about this. Hey, if you ever need anything, feel free to come to me. I'm here for you, okay?"

"Okay," Luna acknowledged. Hermione stood up from the chair, and headed back to her place on the other side of the library. A large stack of books dressed the table Hermione worked on. Luna opened the Quibbler back up, but she could not focus on the words. Every couple of seconds, she stole glances towards Hermione. Hermione studied so hard. Her resolve was steadfast. Luna felt insignificant in her presence.

It was no wonder Nott picked Hermione. She was perfect: smart, caring, cool, a hard worker. Luna could not stand next to such a giant. Instead, she was small and inconsequential. She couldn't fault Nott for choosing Hermione instead of herself. Who would not have picked Hermione? That was how life played out. Nott knew the stakes. And Luna lost once more. Another notch in her seemingly endless series of losses.

She put down the Quibbler. There was no point trying to recapture her former tranquillity. She was too self obsessed. She packed the Quibbler into her leather tote bag. Leaving the library would not solve anything though. There were even more distractions out in the hallways and among her peers. Instead, she headed into the stacks of books.

Luna walked slowly. Her hand brushed over the sides of the books. Dust collected on the tips of her fingers. In the corner of her eye, she read the names written along the spines: Baillie, Blake, Burns, Byron. She followed along until reached Wordsworth. A thick book containing all of his poems fit at the edge of the stack. She brushed through the pages, until arriving at her favourite poem: "Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798." Wordsworth understood that there was more to the world; he was not poisoned by the thoughts of the realists. She skimmed over the lines, but, truthfully, her focus lied elsewhere.

She closed the book, and reached to place it back on the shelf. But, against the wooden stack, laid a small leather bound book. It was tucked discreetly between the collection of Wordsworth poems and the edge. Luna grabbed the book. There were no markings on it: no title or author. It looked small enough to be a diary.

She opened the cover to reveal a blank page. She flipped through the pages. All of them were blank. She sighed. Then, words started to appear. At first, it looked like the pages were bleeding ink from small pores, but then they collected into letters.

_Hello? Is someone there?_

Luna closed the book abruptly. She looked to her right and left. No one paid her any attention. She looked down the spine more closely. There was no library mark. It was not an official library book. She stuffed it into her bag. With her head down, she left the library. No alarm went off. It was a personal book, not affiliated with the library. Someone must have left it between the stacks. She walked swiftly down the hallway, into the girl's washroom, and sat in a stall. She opened the book, and once more, on the front page, words started to appear.

_Hello? Is someone there?_

She took out her pen. Hesitantly, she wrote: _Yes_. Her hand shook. She continued: _My name is Luna. Luna Lovegood. What's yours?_

_Again, words formed on the page. Ian. Ian Curtis._

_..._

Author's Notes:

One of the few parts of _The Unloved Kids _I was unsatisfied with was Luna. She plays an interesting role in the party scene, but then disappears. I thought it would be fun to write a small self contained story focusing on her particular character within _The Unloved Kids_. That story evolved into ten thousand words, and, in a sense, became the second _The Unloved Kids _story. Since it relies so heavily on the first story, I've decided to post it with the original. I will also post the short chapters in bunches, so expect around four chapters.

It was fun to return to these characters. Recently, I've been writing a story very unlike my Harry Potter fiction. It's a fantasy/comedy story called _The Pillars of Destiny_, based on the Total Drama cartoon universe (if you're curious, it's in my 'favourite story' tab). There was something comforting about returning to HP and my usual 'style'.

Hopefully, within the next week or two, I will also post the next chapter of _The Study Group_. So, look out for that. It's a longer story focusing on Hermione, Theo, Terry, and Hannah. The themes and characters in that story are similar to _The Unloved Kids_. I have also recently finished my Hermione/Theo story _A Dedication_. Personally, I think the third chapter of that story may be one of the best chapters I've ever written.

Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	9. Luna Lovegood and Ian Curtis

Part 3

Luna sat with her legs crossed on her bed. The leather bound book rested in her lap. She wore a long white Nirvana shirt that stretched down to her thighs. She fiddled with a pen in her right hand. There was no one else in the dorm room. It was nearly lights-out. The rest of the girls were in the common room, trying to enjoy the last few minutes allowed to them out there. Luna could hear their shrill conversations pass through the wall.

Her eyes were focused on the leather bound book. The words from before were gone. The front page was blank once more. With a deep breath, she began to write once more. _Are you __**the**__ Ian Curtis? From Joy Division? _

_Yes. That's me. _

_How can I know for sure?_

_Unfortunately, all I can provide is my word._

Luna chewed at the end of her pen. She stood up from her bed, and headed to her dresser. The top drawer was where she kept all of her tapes. Opening it, she started to sort through the pile. She owned one Joy Division tape. Near the bottom, under some of her clothes, she found it: _Permanent_. It was the greatest hits album released the year before. She moved back onto her bed. Taking out the liner notes, she began to quickly study the lyrics.

She wrote: _how does the second verse of Isolation go?_

The words formed slowly in order:

_Mother I tried please believe me,  
I'm doing the best that I can.  
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through,  
I'm ashamed of the person I am._

Luna smiled, but it quickly faded. In frustration she wrote: _that's not enough. Anyone could know that. I need something more._

_I'm not sure what else I can give you. _

_How about something personal? What's something no one else knows?_

_I do not know what other people know._

_Right. _Luna thought for a moment. _Just something specific. Something about your death._

_The last record I listened to before I hanged myself was Iggy Pop's _The Idiot_. _

_How can I know that's true?_

_I do not know. It's you who asked for it. The only true way you can know is if you have faith._

Luna breathed deeply. She stared around the room. Her heart beat roughly in her chest; the pit of her stomach pulled her down. Outside, the moon wavered between clouds. Its light barely escaped. It gave off the only illumination in the overcast night sky.

_Okay. I believe you. What are you doing in a book in Hogwarts?_

_I left it here when I graduated from the school._

_How do you know about your death then?_

_Part of the spell included leaving a little bit of my soul among the pages. When I died, other parts of me rejoined this one. I do not have everything. Only enough fragments able to recollect small pieces. _

_You went to Hogwarts? Really?_

_Yes. I had a different name then. Nic Tauris. _

_What house were you sorted into? _

_Ravenclaw._

_That's my house. _

_Do you like it?_

_Not really. I don't have any friends. They don't like me much. But, that's true about the rest of them in my year. Did you like it? _

_Sure. I had a couple of close mates. We were a reckless lot. A different sort from the rest of our peers. I had a lot of fun with them._

_Well, there are a couple of people close to me. I wouldn't call them friends, but we're a regular group of freaks. You could call them friends, in a sense._

Luna was about to write more, but she was interrupted by a group of girls entering the dorm. She shut the book quickly, and slipped between the covers of her bed. The others did not pay her much heed. They headed over to their dressers and started to change.

"Did you hear about Sue…"

"I can't believe she said that…"

"What a bitch, just because she's a year…"

The conversations dragged. Luna pretended she was sleeping. Between her arms, she held onto the leather bound book close to her chest. Before lights out, she reached out from under her covers, and grabbed her wand off of her bedside table. When the lights were finally turned off, she could hear a couple of the girls continue to talk. Luna's breaths were light. The room finally went silent nearly an hour later.

Quietly, she spoke an incantation: "_Lumos_." A bright light built on the top of her wand. She shook it violently. As it moved, the light dimmed. Once the light was barely visible, Luna held it still. She opened the book once more, and stuck the tip of the wand against the page.

She wrote: _Did you ever feel alone? Misunderstood?_

_Of course. My mates and I were close, but I don't think they ever understood me. Even the other members of Joy Division; I don't think they ever understood what was going on in my mind. I'm not sure they ever paid attention to the lyrics. In a sense, that's what the lyrics tried to express. The way I wrote had to do mostly with personal relations and the way people cope with certain things, then anything else. Within that, I tended to be interested in people and how they looked at things in different ways, and how different people can cope with certain problems, and how we can adapt. We're all misunderstood in our own ways, and we also deal with it in our own ways._

_Did you believe that there are things beyond what you can see?_

_Well, you know, at the moment, I am beyond what people can see. _

Luna smiled. _True. _

She closed the book, and held it close to her chest. Resting her head onto her pillow, she tried to fall asleep. The moon crept out from behind the clouds. Through the window by the foot of her bed, moonlight rained softly on her bed. In the light, her white hair seemed to glow.

Part 4

Luna headed outside. Her red quilt wrapped around her shoulders. The sun hung high in the sky; it was just past noon. She wore a long leopard print blouse with a low collar. Her necklaces were mostly beads wrapped tightly around her neck. Instead of a skirt, she wore tight bright green pants. It was colder than the last time she was outside. The warm autumn was slowly moving towards winter. She held the quilt close.

Passing by the side of the building, she crossed Theodore Nott smoking against the wall. He wore his black wool coat with the letters HATE written in white paint along the back. His Morrissey quiff was folded to one side. In one hand, he read a small paperback novel. A cigarette dangled between his index and middle finger on the other. Noticing Luna pass by, he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Luna raised her arm in greeting. She walked up next to him. "Hey Nott," she spoke casually.

"Hey Luna. How's it going?" He inhaled from the cigarette. His eyes kept in contact with the book.

"Good," Luna spoke. "You're familiar with Joy Division right?"

"Yeah," he said. "Of course I am."

"Right. Do you own any of their tapes?" She asked.

"Yes. All of them. Want to borrow one?"

Luna nodded. "Could I? I've just started getting back into them."

"No problem. I'll bring them the next time we hang out. We're going to have a little get together this weekend in 702. You interested?"

"Sure. I'll come." Luna smiled.

"Cool. I'll let Tracey know. She was looking to invite you," Nott spoke.

"Oh, cool," Luna said with less enthusiasm. She turned to walk away, but stopped herself, and turned back. "Uh, Nott, do you know how Ian Curtis died?"

Nott looked away from his book. "Sure. He killed himself. Hanged himself on the kitchen washing line."

"Anything more specific? Like what he was doing right before he did it."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm..." Luna struggled to think of a reason. "I'm reading a book on him. And it's not very specific about that part."

"Strange," Nott spoke. He stared into Luna's eyes. "He listened to Iggy Pop's _The Idiot_. And he had a fight with his wife. That's all I can remember off the top of my head."

Luna smiled. "Thanks. Are you sure that was the record his listened to?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I bought it because of the story."

"Right. Thanks. Could you bring that record too? I'd like to hear it." Luna waved her hand at him, and turned away. She walked down across the grass towards her boulder. Nott stayed still. He put his cigarette in his mouth, and watched her walk.

Arriving at her boulder, Luna laid out her quilt in her usual spot. She placed down her bag, took out her tin, and grabbed the papers. She pinched one paper between her fingers and carefully lined the inside with her weed. Once she had the proper amount, she rolled it, licked around the edge, and placed the filter. Setting the joint aside, she grabbed her lighter and placed it next to her thigh. She took the joint, put it in her mouth, and lit it with the lighter, exhaling in one long, slow breath.

Holding the joint between her fingers, she took out the book and a pen. The regular blank page greeted her when she opened the book. She covered her eyes to block the glare from the sun. Casually, she wrote: _Hello Ian_.

Before she could write anymore, she heard a _click_ in front of her. She turned her head upwards, and was immediately blinded by glare. She covered her eyes for a second, and stood from up from her spot. There, she saw Colin Creevey standing behind a tree, about fifty metres into the Forbidden Forest. His camera was pointed towards her.

"You motherfucker!" She yelled.

Colin pulled his camera towards his chest. He turned, and started to head deeper into the forest. Luna pocketed the joint, and left the book on the quilt. Colin stumbled to move over the dense branches. Luna sped through them. Her arms were raised over her face to stop the tree limbs from hitting her face. The small girl quickly caught up to the boy with curly hair. She grabbed his shoulders, and tackled him as hard as she could to the ground.

She stood up with her hands on her hips. A streak of mud ran down the side of her leopard print blouse. Colin laid on the ground in the foetal position. He held tightly onto his camera, pulling it close to his chest. Mud covered the right side of his body. A cut ran across the top of his forehead. Blood slowly trickled down the front of his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Taking my photo like that? Were you waiting for me?" Luna shouted.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck was that reaction? You could have broken my camera!" Colin spat still lying on the ground.

"Good. Guys who hide out, waiting to snap photos of unsuspecting girls don't deserve to have a camera. You piece of shit!" Luna continued. She started to pace, and felt the length of her hair, checking if any mud was caught on it. In a clump, near the ends of her blue streaks, there was a bit. She quickly tried to rub it off.

"I wasn't hiding out! Why would I do that? I was just taking pictures. That's all. I didn't take a photo of you."

"Bullshit! I saw the glare in your lens. It was pointed directly at me, you sick fuck."

"Fine. I took your photo. Okay? But I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to? You accidentally pointed the lens at me, focused your shot, and snapped a photo. You really think I'm going to believe that?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I was not out there to take your photo. I was just snapping pics of the forest. Like the other day. I had no intention of taking your photo when I went out there." He spoke quickly, and continued to hold onto his camera on the ground. The blood from the cut on his forehead dripped close to his eyes. He quickly wiped it away. "You just, came along, and it looked like a nice picture, so I snapped a quick shot. Look, I'm sorry, but that did not warrant attacking me like that."

"Of course it did. Now, give me your film." Luna extended her hand towards him.

"What?" Colin's grip tightened. "Why would I do that?"

"So I can destroy the photo. I can't risk you having it. You're a stalker taking unsolicited photos. Who knows what a sicko like you might do? Jack off to it? I'm not going to let that happen. Now, give it to me!" Luna leaned downwards to grab the camera out of Colin's hands.

"No, don't!" Colin said, pulling the camera away from her reach.

She lunged forward. "Give it to me!"

"NO! Don't touch it!" Colin yelled at the top of his lungs. The fragile desperation obvious in his voice. Luna was shocked. She stepped back. "I won't let you!" His arms shook violently. The knuckles on his hands were white from the grip on the camera. "I'm not a stalker. It was just a photo. I'm sorry." Tears built up in his eyes.

Luna reached backwards, and leaned her arm against a tree.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Colin spoke between tears. "This is why nobody likes you. You think it's because we think you're crazy and believe in make-believe shit. No! It's because you're a god-damned psycho." He stood up. On his first step, he stumbled a little, failing to gain his balance. A few steps further, he started to walk normally. Both his hands tightly gripped camera. Blood from the cut on his forehead trickled onto the grass as he walked.

Luna stayed still. Frozen. She breathed slowly. Everything felt like a mess. Her head ached; she could not form a thought. In her throat, she chewed on some words. She wanted to say sorry. She wanted to apologize, but nothing came out. She stood there in silence, watching him leave. The pit of her stomach felt like a fire burning up her spine. It sickened her. She sickened herself. She rubbed her face.

A few minutes later, Luna finally returned to her quilt. The book rested in the middle. Right where she had left it. The pen was thrown to the side. She took out the spliff from her pocket, looked at it, and tossed it with all her might into the forest. She sat down. The mud from her blouse stained the red quilt. She opened the book. The pen shook in her hand. She wanted desperately to write something. Instead, she marked the page with a violent trembling diagonal line.

Words began to appear: _Luna. Are you okay?_

Tears began to fall on the page.

Part 5

Luna sat alone in the stall. The girl's washroom was empty. She was glad. She did not want to hear the whispers of others. On her lap, the leather bound book rested open. The blank page stared up at her. Delicately, she rubbed her hand along the edge of it. She took deep breaths.

The washroom was quiet. The flow of the pipes rattled the walls. It was a damp place in the basement, far from Ravenclaw. There were no windows. A blinking florescent light fluttered above her. The curfew was in effect soon. Her heart raced at the suggestion of returning to Ravenclaw. She was afraid to face the others. The idea felt like a sentencing. Continuing to hide was the best option. It would be easier that way.

With a burst of courage, she finally wrote something: _Hello? Ian?_

_Luna? Are you okay?_

_Yeah. I'm fine. _She rubbed the side of her face. _Can I ask you a question?_

_Sure._

_Have you ever been confused? Confused about yourself? _

_Yes. I have. All the time. I'll give you an example. When I was at school, a month into my final year, I had a lot of trouble at school. There were three of us, three mates, and we had this idea. We didn't know what we were going to do, but it seemed like a good idea to go down to London and get some sort of job. One of them left, and I left, but the other lad stayed on, and finished the year. When I left, I had a great feeling: 'I'm free, I'm free'. Then a couple of months later, I was panicking. 'What am I going to do? What am I going to do?' It was awful. Only when Joy Division started to pick up, did I get comfortable. I think it's because I was doing what I wanted to do, really. And yet, it came back. I was having seizures on the stage. I'd twist; my eyes pinned inside; unable to breath. It was unbearable. And my marriage was falling apart. And we were going to have to start touring. It all rushed over me in a wave on that final day. I had enough. Although, I've even been confused by that. Why did I stop then? Could I have not kept going? Even if I quit the band. Something. Our whole lives are filled with confusion: confusion about ourselves. _

_I think you're the only one who understands me Ian. _

Luna sat alone in the washroom. The light continued to flicker above her. She dreaded heading back. But, for the first time in the day, her heart calmed down. She stared upwards, towards the ceiling, and imagined the sky. Was the white moon out tonight? She closed her eyes, and imagined the moonlight washing over her. She breathed deeply, there, in the basement of Hogwarts, drowned in the imaginary delicate white moonlight shifting through the walls. She felt comfortable there.

...

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked this chapter. Most of the Ian Curtis' dialogue (particularly when he talks about what his songs are about, and his story about confusion) is taken from the few interviews with him available on the internet. I had to edit them to fit this story, but a large percentage is nearly verbatim.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	10. Luna Lovegood and The Real

Part 6

Luna rested on the edge of her bed. Roughly, she brushed her long white hair. She wore a plaid tank top with a zipper down the middle. Her neck was adorned with chains. Around her waste, she had a black laced skirt that went down to her knees. It was a rougher look than her usual fashion. Once she was finished brushing her hair, she tied it back into a tight ponytail. The streak of blue crossed her forehead loose, like bangs.

She closed her eyes. Time seemed to drift between her fingers. Everything felt fleeting. What was she doing here? Ravenclaw was not her house. She did not belong there. She belonged somewhere else. As long as she was here, she was only wasting the limited time she had. But, could she find somewhere she did belong?

Luna grabbed her bag. She stuffed in the leather bound book, a pen, and her tin container. With a deep breath, she headed out of the dorm room, and into the common room. She held her bag close to her chest with both hands. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground. She acknowledged no one. Still, she could feel their glares from behind. Her feet shuffled. The others' words started to drag.

"Did you hear..."

"How could she..."

"He's such a nice..."

"What a..."

With desperation, she lunged forward to the door. She threw it open, and stepped into the hall. The voices were silenced once the door closed behind her. Curfew was in effect. The hallway was empty. Her half breaths filled the air. She felt more alone surrounded by them, than by herself.

Luna made her way towards the east tower. She climbed the round stairs. No moonlight passed through the windows. The sky was covered in clouds. At the top of the tower there was a circular landing. 701, 702, and 703 surrounded her. She walked up to 702, and knocked loudly. The sound followed back along her trail down the stairs.

A few seconds later, the door opened a sliver. Loud music burst into the silence of the landing. The room's silencing charm was broken with the door open. Wayne stared through the crack. A devious smile crossed his lips. "Luna..." He commented with a bellowing chuckle.

"Wayney-kins..." Luna said, imitating Wayne's inflection.

"Close the fucking door!" Someone yelled from inside.

Wayne pushed the door open with one arm. He left just enough room for Luna to slip through. She ducked under his arm, and entered the room. Wayne wore his studded leather jacket. A big red circle-A was painted over the back. His hair was shaved on the sides and styled like a mohawk. Once Luna had stepped far enough forward, Wayne closed the door. He raised his arms. "Hey everyone! Look who's graced us with her presence. It's the stone-faced killer!"

Hermione and Tracey sat across from each other at one of the round tables. Tracey had a buckled choker around her neck. She wore a black long sleeved shirt with a deep v-neck showing off her cleavage. Her slick black hair was cut above her shoulders, with one or two strands crossing over her forehead, giving the illusion of bangs. Hermione was dressed more conservatively: a white dress shirt with a thick black tie. Her curly hair was loose and bunched.

Nott sat on one of the tables to the side. His feet rested on a chair. The same paper back novel he was reading earlier in the week was held between his fingers. He looked up when Wayne spoke, and nodded his head in Luna's direction.

"Back off Wayne," Tracey commented dismissively.

Wayne raised his arms in the air. "Whatever." He took a seat at the table to the backs of Hermione and Tracey. He turned the chair around, and straddled the back. He leaned forwards onto his elbows.

"Hey everyone," Luna commented under her breath listlessly. She joined Tracey and Hermione at the round table. Large black drapes covered the long curved windows. The room was dimly lit. Bauhaus played on the old RCA stereo next to Tracey. 'Bela Lugosi's Dead' was chanted eerily. Luna placed her bag on the table. Brushing her hand through her hair, she took out the tin. She kept her eyes downwards. She was too afraid to stare at Tracey or Hermione.

"Are you okay Luna? I heard about what happened. Sounds like a real mess," Hermione said. She reassuringly grabbed Luna's forearm. Luna paused. Instinctively, she pulled her hand back, out from under Hermione's grasp, dropping the tin. Her grinder, papers, and baggie of weed fell loosely onto the table.

Tracey leaned forward, and collected the items. "You don't need to worry Hermione. Luna's fine. She's not the one who got his ass kicked."

"Fuck yeah! Motherfucking anarchy!" Wayne raised his fist into the air. The three girls stared at him. Slowly, he lowered his arm.

Tracey pushed the contents of the tin towards Luna. Luna reached to grab them, but Tracey pulled them back. "But, Luna, you're going to have to tell us all the details. I'm eager to hear the story. Is it true it was a lovers quarrel?" A mischievous smile crossed her lips.

"You're such a gossip Tracey," Hermione observed.

Luna sat up, and hit her hand harshly onto the table. "Colin? No way! Ew. I may be a freak, but I'm not _that _desperate. There's nothing between us. Really, there's nothing."

Tracey pouted. Before she could get another word in, Hermione spoke once more. "Luna. It's okay. We're just a little curious. Are you sure you're okay though? I just want to make sure. These sorts of things can really mess you up." Hermione's voice was maternal; like she was talking to a child.

"I'm okay." Luna spoke begrudgingly. She sounded annoyed by Hermione's condescending tone. "You don't need to worry about me Hermione. I can take care of myself." She grabbed the papers, and started to line one with weed. "Plus, I have Ian to help me out. I'm doing fine.

"Ian? A boy?" Tracey spoke excitedly. "This is getting better. Is he from your year? Is he cool?"

"Ian..." Hermione thought out loud. "I don't remember anyone named Ian from the upper years. Is he from another school?"

Luna shook he head. "No. He's not a student. It's Ian. Ian Curtis."

"Ian Curtis?" Hermione asked, not sure who Luna was referring to.

Tracey turned to Hermione. "You don't know Ian Curtis? He's the lead singer of Joy Division."

"That's a band right?" Hermione spoke, unfamiliar with them. She turned back towards Luna. "You're talking with a rock star?" Hermione asked surprised.

Wayne leaned forward on his chair. The back two legs were raised into the air. "That seems unlikely, since he's been dead for nearly twenty years," he said sceptically.

On the other side of the room, Nott lowered his book.

"I know he's dead. I'm still talking with him."

"How exactly are you doing that?" Wayne asked.

"Through a book. A magical book he left when he graduated from Hogwarts. I found it in the library along the shelves."

Wayne burst into laughter. His loud voice boomed around the room. "Ha! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Ian Curtis? From Hogwarts? Are you really that stupid Luna? Oh, fuck, this is too good."

"Hey!" Luna pointed her finger at Wayne forcefully. "Fuck off. He hid his time at Hogwarts; do you really think he'd tell the muggles that he was a wizard?"

"Right. Do you really think no one from the wizarding world would have noticed his career? I think we would know if he was a wizard. Someone would have mentioned it. I can't believe you're this dumb!"

"He changed his name. He went by another name while he studied here. I can ask him what it is, then we'll look it up! It'll be in the records. I know it will." She spoke enraged.

Wayne did not respond. He fell off his chair in laughter. Luna looked around the table. Tracey's face was emotionless and cold. A stern line tightened the muscles in her cheeks. Hermione looked concerned.

"Luna, I don't think it's a good idea to trust strange spells on books. They can be dangerous," Hermione commented.

"Back off Hermione. You don't understand. You're not one of us. You're not a freak." Luna shook her head. "Tracey. Please. Back me up."

Tracey's face stayed stoic. "Luna. Burn that book," she said firmly.

Luna threw back her chair. She hit her hands onto the table. "That's it. I don't have to sit here and hear all of your shit. Fuck all of you. I thought, if anyone, you people would get it. You're supposed to be my friends. But, no! You don't understand. None of you do!" She grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the room.

Nott stood up, and swiftly followed after her.

Part 7

Luna held her bag close to her chest. She ran down the spiralling stairs. No moonlight passed through the windows. The night sky was overcast. She felt choked. Her hands squeezed her bag. The book rested as close to her chest as she could bring it. Her knuckles turned white.

"Luna!" A voice called from behind her. Nott. He was moving quickly. She did not turn around. Her attention was focused before her; the steps lining downwards at her feet. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused for a moment. She stuck her hand into her bag for a moment. The tips of her fingers brushed the spine of the small leather bound book. "Luna!" Nott called once more. He caught up to her. His Morrissey quiff looked russeled and messy from his sprinting. He wore a striped dress shirt with tight black pants. Once he joined her on the landing, he paused, leaned over, and tried to catch his breath.

"What is it Nott? Come to get your turn? Wanted one good jab in about how crazy I am before I ran off?" Luna accused him. Her words were harsh, and tinged with venom.

"What?" Nott coughed. He struggled to catch his breath. "I should quit smoking," he said to himself. After a minute, he stood up straight, and stared directly at Luna. "No. I have no intention of making fun of you. It'd be hypocritical. I was in the same position once."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked sceptically.

"That book. Ian Curtis."

"Really?" Luna was surprised. "Did you once have this book?"

"You could say that. I made it," he admitted.

"What the fuck? You made it?" She asked shocked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I made it." He rubbed his eyes. "During the summer after fourth year. I was...I," he struggled to speak the words. With a deep breath, he continued. "I was lonely. Really lonely. I had no friends. My tapes were the only thing I had. Lou, Steven, and Ian were the closest people to me. So, I thought, I'd make one of them my friend. I spent the whole summer on it, and that book was the result." He pointed toward her bag.

"That's, that's mental. You made something like this? How can I know that?"

"His name in Hogwarts? It was Nic Tauris, wasn't it? I thought I was so clever. I spent an afternoon on that anagram. It sounds like it could be a name right?" He chuckled to himself. He took out his wand, and waved it in the air. Under his breath, he spoke the incantation "_condeliquescio_." Nott reached into his pocket, took out his pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and lit it with his lighter, exhaling in one long, slow breath.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"I know it doesn't," Nott shook his head. The cigarette burned between his fingers. "That's not important anyway. I'm just saying I understand it. I know that charm of the book."

"Really? Do you? Why don't you have it anymore than?"

"Because it's fake!" He raised his voice slightly. He inhaled from his cigarette once more. Calmly, he continued: "Look, I thought the book was all I needed. I had a true friend, for the first time. But, it was a lie. He just tells you what you want to hear. It helped me. It helped me learn how to talk to people, and I'm forever grateful for it. But, it's fake. It's not real."

"Of course it's fake! What do you think I am? An Idiot? But, why? Why does everything have to be real? Why is everyone so obsessed with reality? Sometimes the fake is way better than what's real!" Luna yelled at him. Her voice travelled through the silent halls of the school. She covered her mouth, and felt a couple tears hit her hand as they travelled down her cheek. "All anyone cares about is what they can see before their eyes. I don't want that. I don't."

Nott placed his hand reassuringly onto her shoulder. "The fake is comforting, but sometimes it's dangerous. It can be hurtful. When I started fifth year, I thought the book was going to save me, but it did the opposite. It made me even further removed. In the beginning of that year, Tracey began to listen to Nine Inch Nails and Bauhaus. None of her cool friends understood it, and they pushed her away. Alone, she came to me hoping for acceptance. We'd listen to each others records every night. But, I hurt her, and I said and did some mean things to her that I can never atone for, thanks to that book. In the book, Ian was perfect, but he was simple. He's not a real person."

"So? Just because you're an idiot, doesn't mean that it's the book's fault." Luna suggested forcefully.

"I was an idiot. A complete and total fucking idiot." Nott insisted. "But that book is still partially to blame. You get consumed by it, and forget what the world really is."

"Why is that so bad? What's wrong with forgetting how the world really is? I hate the world how it really is!" Luna said.

"Because you can't escape from the world. It's always there. You can't escape other people. You can't escape loneliness. You can't escape your emotions."

"Yes I can!" Luna insisted.

"No you can't. Because you're still talking to me. You were still affected by the others upstairs. You're crying right now."

"Fuck!" Luna said. She leaned against the wall. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Nott moved next to her. "It's okay. I know that it fucks with you. It took Tracey demanding I destroy it for me to get rid of the thing." He rubbed his eyes. "I still couldn't bring myself to do it. So, I hid it in the library."

"You left it there? Next to Wordsworth?"

"Wordsworth?" Nott sounded confused. "I put it next to Wordsworth? I thought I put it next to an old ugly book no one would ever read. Shit. I could of put it a little somewhere a bit more conspicuous," Nott spoke to himself. "Anyways, I'm sorry you got mixed into all of this." Nott inhaled slowly. He let the smoke slowly crawl out of his lips.

Luna leaned back onto the wall. She was exhausted. The night weighed heavily on her. "Do you want to see it?" she asked.

"No. That part of my life is over. I have no intention of going back there." Nott spoke firmly.

The two of them stood in silence. "Oh!" Nott announced. "I brought those tapes for you." He reached into his pocket, and took out three tapes. "_Unkown Pleasures_, _Closer_, and Iggy Pop's _The Idiot_. Do you still want them?"

"Sure." Luna snatched them from his hand, and placed them into her bag. "I think I'm going to head back to Ravenclaw. Take care Nott." Her voice sounded drained.

"Alright. Take care Luna," Nott said. He gave her a friendly wave, stomped out his cigarette, and began to climb the stairs. "Sorry everything got confusing like it did."

Luna held onto her bag close to her chest. The hallways were dark and empty. They seemed to stretch into the night. When she reached Ravenclaw, she passed quickly into door. Only a handful of kids stayed in the common room. Lights-out were already in effect, but during the weekends, it was not firmly enforced.

She headed to her dorm room. She slipped out of her tank top and took off her necklaces. Removing her skirt, she changed into her long Nirvana shirt. The other girls in the dorm room were already asleep. Luna opened her dresser drawer, and took out her walkman. She sat on the foot of her bed, put in Iggy Pop's _The Idiot _and stared out the window. The night sky was overcast. Like there were no stars. Like there was no moon.

...

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked this chapter. I kind of forgot to post it earlier. Sorry.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	11. Luna Lovegood and The Understanding

Part 8

Luna knelt in between the stacks. The library was quiet. Students avoided it on Sundays. She took out the leather bound book, and held it with two hands close to her chest. She breathed deeply. Her fingers shook.

With care, she opened the cover to the front page. She began to write down words: _Ian?_

_Yes Luna?_

_I'm going to put you away._

_Why? _

_Because it's for the best. I..._

She paused. She did not know how to explain it. The words did not come to her. Still, she knew it had to end. It was over. She could not look at it the same way after the night before. She rubbed the side of her face. She wore a bright colourful layered skirt, with lace around the edges. Her shirt was a bright pink. A number of beaded necklaces hung off her neck.

She continued: _Ian?_

_Yes?_

_Do you have a favourite poet? _

_What? Like the blokes we used to study in school?_

_Yes. _

_I never liked them to be honest. There was a lad we used to do shows with, John Cooper Clarke. I always liked his poems. _

_Which was your favourite?  
_

_Probably 'Evidently Chickentown', I think._

_Do you know any others?_

_Not really. It's the only one that comes to mind._

_Okay_. Luna's heart raced. _Do you know a boy named Nott? Theodore Nott?_

_Sure. He was the only other person to talk to me in the book. Do you know him?_

_Yes._

_Tell him I said hi._

_Okay._

The pit of her stomach pulled her towards the ground. She tried to smile, but the muscles refused to move. She chewed on the end of her pen.

_Good-bye Ian._

_Good-bye Luna._

She closed the book.

A soft wave of comfort crossed over her. Like stepping back on land after days at sea. She felt a little more sure of herself, and of the world around her. She passed her fingers through her hair.

She pulled out the book of Wordsworth's collected poems. With the leather bound book in her hand, she returned it to its place against the stack. Then, Luna snatched it back up. It did not seem right next to Wordsworth. She looked at the rest of the Romantics. After a moment, she decided to fit it next to John Keats. Two poets who died young. Ian would find a kindred soul in Keats.

Luna stood up, brushed off her skirt, and left the library.

Part 9

Luna rolled a joint at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, not to catch a glimpse of a centaur, but to be alone. She sat on a bright red quilt. A cold wind passed along the grass. It would soon be winter. Her back rested on a large round boulder, that hid her from sight of the school. She wore a long colourful skirt, a white tank-top, and a denim jacket. Sewn onto the back of the jacket was a large black Radiohead patch. Her long white hair was loose around her shoulders; the blue streak dangled before her eyes. Slowly, she brought the joint to her lips, and lit the tip. Sitting back, she exhaled turning upwards, watching the cloudy sky.

A noise stirred behind her. She stayed calm. Her mind was too exhausted to react. The spliff continued to burn between her fingers; she made no effort to hide it. She did not care if she was caught. She did not care about anything at that moment.

"Luna," Colin spoke softly. He walked gingerly around the boulder; his right arm brushed alongside the rock. In his left hand, he held his Canon SLR tightly. Colin wore a black zipped up hoodie, and wide blue jeans. Over his shoulder, a camera bag hung loosely. "Hey," he greeted. Cautiously, he gave her a wave.

Luna continued to stare into the sky. She took another hit. Her face was stoic; she showed no acknowledgement of him. She wanted to be alone; the last thing she wanted to see was Colin's stupid face. He stepped forward. She ignored him.

With a sigh, Colin moved in front of her. Bowing his head, he said "I wanted to apologize for what happened." Her face looked irritated. "I, uh," he began to rustle in his camera bag. "I wanted to give you something, in good faith." He took out an envelope, and handed it to Luna. "It's the picture I took of you, and the negatives from the reel, so I can't make any more copies." Luna opened the envelope. A line of film was bunched together. She brought it up to the light, and looked at the images as the light passed through them. Most of the pictures were focused on the barren autumn trees in the Forbidden Forest. "I'm sorry I didn't give you it when you asked for it, but I did not want to lose all the photos I took. I know that's selfish of me. They don't matter to you, but they're all I have. Still, now that I've developed them, it's okay. I don't need to make any more. I don't want you to think I'd do anything wrong with it."

Luna took out the photo from the envelope. The shot was a portrait. Spare trees lined the edges. In the middle, on a bright red quilt, she sat with her legs crossed. A brown leather bound book rested on her lap. The bright light reflected off the boulder behind her, making her white hair glow. An innocent smile painted her face. Luna rubbed her thumb over the picture. She stared at it for a minute in silence. "It's pretty," she admitted.

"I know. I could not resist the shot. I thought you looked so cool and pretty, I had to capture the moment. You look almost angelic in it. An angel with a leopard print shirt, reading while smoking a joint. How cool is that?" he spoke matter of fact. The words held no personal connotation; they formed his objective evaluation of the picture.

"But, that's a lie. I'm not angelic at all."

Colin nodded. "That's true. It's a kind of fantasy isn't it?" He looked at the camera in his hand. "Everything this camera captures is a lie, really. The pictures always look like real life, but they're copies; copies I created, hoping to capture something special. Something that's not there in real life."

"I think that's a nice way to put it," Luna commented.

"Perhaps we're not all that different," Colin admitted. "You look for the fantastical out in the world. I look for the fantastical through the lens of my camera. Neither are any more real than the other.

Luna smiled. "You may be right." She held the photo close to her chest. "Still, it's not cool to take a girl's photo without asking first."

"I never intend to do it again," Colin insisted.

"Good. Do you have the other photos from the reel?" Luna asked.

Colin shook his head. "No. I left them back at my dorm. I'll bring them sometime, if you want to see them though."

"I would," Luna said. The bone-dry leaves rustled as a cold wind passed through the trees. Colin shivered as it cut through him. "Why don't you sit down? The wind's not that bad on the quilt," she spoke. She placed the photo face down onto the red quilt. Colin hesitantly sat on one of the corners, making sure his muddy shoes did not touch it. Leaning back, Luna took a hit from the joint. She offered to pass it to him, but he waved her off. Shrugging, she inhaled once more. The smoke crawled out of her mouth while she stared at the sun. "In the end, did you find any make-believe beasts in your photos?" she asked.

"Only this one," he pointed at the picture laying face down on the quilt.

Luna laughed.

Maybe she did not always need to be understood. So long as she was herself, and able to enjoy herself like that, it did not matter if she was understood or not. She could not escape the world: not from other people, from loneliness, from her emotions. But, maybe, she could learn to enjoy herself along with them. Would that be enough?

...

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked this chapter. It is the end of the second story. I had a lot of fun writing it. Luna's such a cool character. I've started to write a new story called Beach House starring her, Hermione, Nott, and Rolf Scamander. The first chapter is already up. Hopefully the next one will be up soon. I'll also posted the next chapter in my story The Study Group. It was probably one of the best chapters. Check it out, if you like.

Thanks xXMizz Alec VolturiXx for your reviews. You're my most dependable reviewer. I can always count on your nice words. Even with this story, that everyone else seems to have abandoned. Thanks. I appreciate it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


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